Vincent and the Doctor
by attlantica
Summary: He felt the tingling sensation of the fire and heard the sweet voice of a woman, but she did not know any of that.


**_Disclaimer:_** _nothing belongs to me but to J.K. Rowling and the publisher for Harry Potter. No profit being made._

 ** _Word Count:_** _1,215_

 ** _Camp Hogwarts –_** _First Aid_ ** _:_** _write about being a Healer_

 ** _Drabble Club –_** _bed_

 ** _Quidditch Pitch –_** _confine_

 ** _Greek Mythology Mega Prompt Challenge –_** _Asclepius – A demigod, he was made god of medicines and healing. Write about St. Mungos Hospital. Alt; write about healing._

 ** _2015 New Years Millionaire Fanfiction Resolutions & Goals – _**_Vincent Crabbe/Hermione Granger_

 ** _Note:_** _I saw the chance to name this like this (Doctor Who ep. reference ;) and I took it omg. Anyway, this was so weird to write, but I hope you like it!_

* * *

All he ever felt was darkness.

For many years, all he knew was darkness. Since he was sent off to school, since he was sorted into the Snake House, since he joined the Dark Lord and since the only thing he could see was black. He knew many of those things were wrong, but he had a reputation to uphold. Not that that reputation was worth much either way.

But apart from darkness, one of the things he could distinguish from the misty dark environment was his position (he was positioned horizontally on some kind of mattress, a bed maybe?) and the distant sound of a voice – a woman's voice.

That had been the only thing that soothed him, the sound of the woman's voice. It sounded familiar, like an echo of something he lost but could not remember, and it was such a horrible feeling to hear that and to not understand a single thing. Why had he found it familiar? Why was it soothing? Where the bloody hell was he?

Crabbe may had passed as stupid for most of his life, but those were simple questions even a mountain troll could understand or even formulate. He was _that_ underestimated most of the time.

Anyways, the voice was the only thing that calmed him down, but he could really understand what it was saying, for it sounded like gibberish to him, and it was certainly not real words. Maybe his brain was not functioning well enough for it to understand language, but maybe he was just an imbecile.

No one exactly knew the answer to that question.

The boy felt a tingling sensation burning through his body. What was happening? Whatever thing he could make out was useless except for one fact, or well, actually two. There was a fire, a huge burning fire raging and burning everything in its way, but there was also something else, the voice. The woman's voice was the other thing Crabbe could recognize, and before he had the chance to try to work it all out, it stopped. Everything stopped.

Suddenly pain trickled every nerve in his body, raging like a fire. He tried to fight, but he was too weak, too defenceless. So, he decided to let it all pass, making him realize one other thing. He could feel light bursting through his eyelids, one thing he had not felt for years in the dark.

He slowly opened his eyes, only to be blinded by the light.

* * *

Being a Healer was nice yet exhausting.

She went here, she went there. She treated a patient and she scanned some tests. She brewed the potions and she sometimes was the secretary. (Tatiana was too often pregnant, and someone had to cover the post!) But it was all for the best of the people, and Hermione felt satisfied that her help went through hundreds of people that needed it.

Hermione had always had a thing with helping the weak and the underdogs, didn't she?

Now, for whatever reason she was at the Janus Thickey Ward, looking over the patients that rested there. She went first to the Longbottom's room, where the witch and the wizards lied in peace, slowly recovering with the help of Hermione, Harry, Neville and the Elder Wand. The young healer smiled at the couple with a tad of pity on her gaze. They were so young and so in love to be left like this. At least Bellatrix got what she deserved by no other than Hermione future mother-in-law, Molly Weasley.

Yes, Hermione was marrying into the Weasley family. Was it Ron? In a million years. He had the emotional range of a teaspoon, Hermione could and would not deal with that in a serious relationship. She was now with Fred, who turned out to be better that he let other to believe.

Either way, that wasn't important at the moment. Hermione was working and she would the required rounds around the wards.

The next room she saw was Lockhart's, and dare she say that she didn't even think it twice before she sprinted off that place, making her land in front of another door, one that she knew to well.

On the patient information it said Vincent Crabbe, Fienfyre injuries, and as an important note it added to be careful, as he was a Death Eater. Hermione could only think of one thing: rubbish. They would seriously put that up in an injured man's room? It was disgusting, really, as the war had already ended! And may she add that it had ended four years ago, so it made the sign even worse.

She opened the door and entered the room. As she did so, Hermione started having mild flashback of the Room of Requirement and the fire that tore it apart. Not many knew this, but she had saved the wizard that was confined in that bed, but other than laying in a comma for over a little more than four years, he had not done anything, so the rescue hadn't really paid off. At least she had saved another life.

It had been a Death Eater's life though, so did it count?

Not that it mattered, as he was already there, slowly dying as the years passed, the injured being treated and cured, but he never waked up.

Hermione wished he did, maybe thank her or something, but she couldn't get her hopes up on that. He had been a Slytherin and a Death Eater (even if the war had ended) and he was a very prejudiced being. She was too be married too, she added to her train of thought, making her unavailable.

Of what was she even talking about anymore?

She sighed and closed the door as she finished on that room and then the other and other and other until Hermione finished the rounds and then went off to the lobby, where she checked out and went home to see her husband and pet. (Not a cat, Fred hated cats)

Hermione sleep deeply for the first time in months, something that came with the job, and woke up early in the morning to leave for work and do her best.

Sleep is for the weak, she would say, but her thought could be read, as she was still mentally asleep.

As she entered the building, Tatiana – who was once again in her desk before she could get pregnant – had casted her aside and told her to wait, as juicy gossip was to come and get her brains. With a roll of her eyes, Hermione took off to the daily rounds, the curiosity of the gossip still fresh in her mind.

 _We should go and see,_ her mind chirped.

 _But we had to work!_ Her rationality exclaimed.

Hermione was going crazy, and she needed another night's sleep like the one she had before. Maybe a up of black coffee would do.

But it did not.

The new reached her in less than an hour. The tale of the miraculous man and that had woken up from his slumber. His half-burnt face off and no left limb had scared off many people, mainly nurses, but it didn't matter at the moment, because all Hermione could think about was: _He finally woke up!_


End file.
